


Clara... Am I a Good Man?

by LoveforBritain



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Clara Oswald - Freeform, Gen, Jenna Coleman - Freeform, Peter Capaldi - Freeform, Post-regeneration, Twelfth Doctor - Freeform, doctor who - Freeform, twelve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveforBritain/pseuds/LoveforBritain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever is going on in Twelve's mind? Pre-Series 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clara... Am I a Good Man?

Console room. The Doctor is sitting on the doorstep right in front of the TARDIS door. His eyes glisten in the light, which exudes from the console at a constant pace, in perfect harmony with the whirring within. His palms are sweaty, his head bowed down as if he is asleep. Only he is not asleep - he has been in that same position for hours now. Sleep has become a nuissance, his mind constantly reeling with this and that. He doesn't remember such a bad post-regeneration feeling since he was Doctor number five. All the humdrum in his head, the constant dizziness, the nightmares... He wants to think he is overreacting, of course: he has done this multiple times, but something is different. Amiss. Something doesn't add up. He used to think he was somebody who had something to give, something to say, but now... He just felt tired. He felt tired of all the travelling back and forth, saving people from something much bigger than himself or them. Saving people from what, exactly? Doom? Themselves? Sure, there had been cases in which he had saved them from total obliteration or from an impending war... But what for? What if that was the way things should go? What if he was messing with the order of the universe?

 

"Nobody should have that right", he thought. "Nobody should ever tinker with the laws of the universe. Nobody should have that power... Not even the Timelords... We swore never to interfere, only to watch... And look at what we have done."

 

The familiar sound of footsteps startled him, even though he was so used to it. Clearly he was not in his right mind. Clara approached him and bid him good morning, but no reply was heard or given. Not a nod, not a glance. She approached him carefully, still mesmerised by how much he had changed. Different face, different clothes, but worse than that... different personality. A Timelord trapped in a cocoon of deep thoughts and melancholy, a self-doubting traveller whose weary eyes and grey hair showed signs of not just aging, but of tiredness. She was careful not to disturb him, for his mind was clearly full of destructing thoughts, as seemed to be the case since regenerating. All this was not new to Clara - the regeneration process was something she should already be familiar with but which still made her extremely uneasy. What kind of person would he or she be? What kind of troubles would she have to protect her protegé from? It was all too familiar yet very... Alien.

 

"Alien, huh? That's a... Good way to put it." she thought, without uttering a word. She quickly made her way into the entrance of the TARDIS and stared at the Doctor. He looked completely wrecked, a devastated alien lifeform. Not even the eerie light emanating from the TARDIS could salvage his tired look. She sat right next to him, not making a sound. He didn't look at her. He kept gazing at his hands, curled up in fist form. He was holding something between his long fingers, but she could not tell exactly what. He looked as if he had been sitting there for years. That was nothing when you have a time machine, but still. He had been on that same spot for way too long, but she didn't dare touch him or even say anything. She sat with him for hours and hours, battling her urge to shake him up and ask what was wrong. She ended up closing her eyes just for a fleeting moment. She fell in a very light sleep and woke up not long after, startled by how easily she had fallen asleep. That was when she realised that the Doctor was staring at her with those deep blue eyes of his. Those impossible eyes... Gazing at the impossible girl. He then let out little more than a whisper, but Clara was close enough to hear his words.

 

"Who am I?" Clara looked at him, dumbfounded by his question. Was he still getting used to his new body? Was he having a personality crisis?

"You're... You're the Doctor. You save entire universes and..." She noticed a very thin teardrop line in his face. Faint, yet visible. "...you are celebrated for it."

"My name is the Doctor. I suppose my job is to look after people." Clara simply nodded. So it was a rethorical question, not a matter of his not really knowing who he was.

"Clara...", he whispered. "All those universes and all those beings I met in the past... My past... Whatever happened to them?"

"I... I don't know. I supposed you saved them from doom. You... Rescued them. From impending wars, from hatred and fear. You made their lives worth living once again."

"Clara..." There was a pause, and a fat tear rolled off his left eye. He composed himself and stared Clara right in the eye. She could see the worry and sadness in him eyes, and all she wanted to do was take his pain away.

 

"Clara... Am I a good man?"


End file.
